(Print it off and read at your leisure it's worth it!)

Posted 17.8.06

FROM CAT LAWFORD

FITNESS INSTRUCTOR OF THE YEAR 2006 (WALES)

One of the main reasons I have ended up offering a wide diversity of services to the sporting public is that I appreciate that one may not always fall into the perfect recreational outlet straight away. As long as we are encouraging fitness by one means or another does it matter if one gets a kick from aerobics, the gym, or skiing backwards for that matter! It s also, as we all know, not good to stick to any one type of exercise as cross training is so good for the body and soul. To this end, I'll try anything new myself to stimulate the senses. Following this, my main reason for writing this article is to share spreading my wisdom on this sentiment: AS PARTICIPANTS BE PREPARED TO LISTEN TO INSTRUCTORS WHO KNOW BETTER!

Back in May 2006, I was not feeling as 100% running fit as usual due to a recent knee injury. I was just getting back into it really, and that was partly the reason why I decided to join my best friend Jo on a new experience I'd only half paid attention to: The Big Black Mountains Challenge 2006. In fact, as I recall, I think it might have been the day before the actual event. I'd vaguely got the idea that it was 27k (whatever that meant), that it involved local mountains and was taken pretty seriously. Fair enough; as it was the Longtown Mountain Rescue team organising it. They have to be seen to make the old health and safety a priority then don't they? You've got a choice of distances: 43k, 27k, or 16k. I figured 43 was for people who had nothing better to do, 16 was for the ill, and 27 would be a doddle. After I'd done the calculations it came to about 16.7 miles. Blimey, I've run ‘The Terminator' (multi-terrain race, Wiltshire, - heavy reputation) in 1hr 47mins. RUNNING!.So a run/walk/run/walk over 16.7 should take around 2 1/2hrs, tops.

Jo was slightly shocked at my sudden decision to join her at the 11 th hour. “you know you've got about 4 ½ hours left to buy all the equipment then?” “Equipment?” “yup, I'll get you the list.” We arranged to meet at a local outdoor pursuits shop in Hay. “O.K then lets see this famous list then” I quipped. She duly produced it. “ Are you having a laugh! This is going to cost about 100 quid! I'll share your stuff” “No can do Cath, they check everything before you even start….. I couldn't believe my ears and nor could my wallet's. This ridiculously longwinded and fussy list read as follows;

1). WHISTLE!!! Snorts of derision! At sea. And then only in Titanic films. For goodness sakes there's 900 odd participants in this event and millions of marshals. Are they all deaf? Still they are only £2.50ish.

2). MAP! The only time I follow navigation using maps is for roads leading to retail outlets, and back.

3). COMPASS! I could barely contain myself. ‘ N ever E at S hredded W heat.' Pass.

4). HAT. I NEVER wear a hat. It ruins the quiff. Will not do.

5). GLOVES.No point at all. Its silly. Its spring.

6). JUMPER/FLEECE. At a push. In a rucksack. For emergencies only. Too hot. Not trendy.

7). FOOD. FLUIDS. If they insist. Experienced runners such as selves know exactly what we need thankyou. Choc Choc. Isostar.

8). FIRST AID KIT. This all seems too insane. For what exactly on a controlled ramble? Falling off a precipiece? Will not buy. Too expensive. Chuck me off if needs be. Stubborn.

9). WATERPROOF JACKET & TROUSERS. £65/£25. Do they have any idea of how I so don't need these at all. Especially at these prices. Jo says they really are essential. It's spring. I have really pressing wardrobe attire to buy that really is essential. New T.K Maxx jacket I've seen, these dead funky trousers from Fat Face, leather boots from No 2 in town…

10).And the final coup de gras. A SURVIVAL BAG! I laugh out loud. This will never be opened. Ever. What a waste of money. This is only for the dead. Hopeless. I find myself resentfully shelling our more of the hard- earned stuff.

On the morning of the event I'm up very early. The sun is shining and I call Jo to check she's ready. Ready and packed. Organised. Knowledgable. As usual in loads of time. One gets so lazy with a friend like this. She'll pick me up in half an hour. I throw everything into a small rucksack. I'm o.k – I've got new gorgeously thick socks on with my old trusty multi-terrain boots, a shortish T-shirt (top up tan today), and thin trousers I trust to run in without chaffing. I feel a little smug if I'm honest. Mostly of the field are walkers and ramblers. They'll be using those funny stick things and will take hours to finish. I'm feeling fit. I might even run most of it. I'm a runner. Mountains hold no fear. I'm a mountain-wise kid. I run on mountains all the time, my back garden indeed.

On the way there I'm really up for it and relaxed. I've forgotten any hat but what the heck. What are they, the Gestapo? It's a gorgeous day. On arrival everyone seems very friendly. It's very well run in stunning scenery. Set at Llanthony Abbey just half an hour from home. We get through the check in. You really are scrutinised I'm amazed to acknowledge. They look in your bag and check your kit. But they missed the hat (or lack of one). I enjoy feeling like a real naughty rebel but the quiff will survive. (especially with this gel on).

We set off. Any recent injuries have disappeared. We feel great. And there's loads of news and goss to catch up on. Ascending our first hill there's no rush. If we happen to overtake anyone it's not competitive. We're not in a hurry we'll be running at the top. Enjoy the sunshine and sights. Feeling those muscles warming up on the incline for the harder work to follow. At almost no distance from the start a man is in trouble and needs assistance from the medical team. A small sense of foreboding strangely filters in but I ignore it. It's just really unlucky for him. Hope he's o.k.

Chatting as we climb I can't believe how the temperature starts to drop as we get higher. My God I might even need the fleece! I reason this is normal if we are at slightly higher altitude than our usual mountain range, which we'll be joining later on. Which is why, as we ascend still higher I'm still not panicking as we get colder and colder. In the end I find myself pulling out the fleece and the waterproof jacket. So at least £65 wasn't a total waste of money then, and I can use it to walk the dog next winter. It flattens off at the top and as we're muscle warm Jo suggests we start to run. Good idea. At least we'll keep warm. Bally hell…. We only get so far when it starts to rain. And then some. And as we're running along a ridge on peaty, rocky terrain the wind starts to pick up considerably. Quiff ruined. And gel running into my eyes, (I'm so vain). I now begin to wish I'd brought a sensible hat, especially as this wind is going straight into my left ear. In fact, it's all starting to feel a bit bleak. Still. Only another couple of hours to go. The rain now appears to be horizontal which is fab because that means wind AND rain going into my left ear which actually hurts. I suddenly realise my jackets got a hood. Although it won't do up really tight around my head at least it offers a barrier vis-à-vis left ear. I wonder what else it's got for 65 quid. As we run I'm trying out various zips, velcrose fastenings and toggles, resulting in a waterproof middle, tightly closed sleeves, and a hood that occasionally blows off. I could probably make it tighter but I can't utilize the draw strings because my hands are so sodding cold. (no gloves). Although my top half is waterproof, the T-shirt doesn't quite reach my trousers so my midriff is decidedly and uncomfortably icy and numb.How the bloody hell can the weather change so quickly, it's ridiculous. I can't actually show my discomfort because Jo and I are RUNNERS and runners are strong, tenacious, upright, and do not suffer. This is the image we project as we run past many walkers en-route. We maintain our pride even when Jo takes a bad fall flat on her face, and I run straight into her because added to the horizontal rain and gale force 9 winds that seriously threaten to blow us off these unfamiliar mountains I can't see her due to fog. Yes. As if we don't have enough to contend with this added element is thrown into the mix.

Our previously chatty demeanour has subdued somewhat but we remain stoical as we decide that maybe now is the time to walk for a while. One can't expect to run a whole 16.7miles, it goes without saying. At least we don' t need those silly stick things. How much further? We've been out here for ages and it s nowhere near quarter way. It just can't be. At around a mere 4 miles I can't believe it. What is the one thing that can force anyone out of a race/event/walk, Have I broken a leg? Panic attack? Asthma? Nope. My God. Goddamn blisters. Both feet. As I curse myself for breaking my own golden rule – never wear anything new on your feet for this kind of thing – SOCKS. Way too squashed in the trainers. I also bemoan the fact I have nothing with me to dress these injuries. I might well have to pull out. For blisters! Stewards assure us if we can hang on for another few miles a Doctor is on the course. They also point out there were thunderstorms the year before. Strangely, this does nothing to alleviate my despair. I start to feel even more miserable and suspect I'm probably not the best of company either. It's obviously going to be hours to the end. Its muddy, wet, windy, etc etc and every gap, missing button, broken zip or lack of thick materials is making me feel hopelessly EXPOSED. In fact I'd happily walk in the survival bag if it had holes for my legs. I'm not missing the irony that I'm exactly the type of person The Longtown Mountain Rescue Team frequently have to rescue. And it's all my fault.

The Doctor is dishy and if there was one highlight in this whole miserable trip it was being stuck in a tiny tent with him tending to my wounds. Mind you even this experience was diminished by the act of attempting to take off my soaking socks and trainers with hands that now had no feeling whatsoever to see pink, frozen and pruned feet, Achilles raw with broken skin. At least I get the chance to put on my waterproof trousers. Bliss.

Feet bandaged we run on now. I'm past caring and too tired to argue to walk, and at least it means it'll be over quicker. Frazzled by the mental exercise of fighting this atrocious weather for hours we struggle on. At one point there wasn't a single other soul for about 15 minutes. We seriously thought we'd lost the track. Deep down you know the chances are slim and the map and compass couldn't have helped in the fog anyway (no land marks), but one feels so alone. Thank God for each other!

After 5 hours we knew we were close to the Abbey. We started a descent and strangely, almost cruelly, the weather started to improve. By this time I'd picked up a brand new injury I've had before from running too far too soon; Ileo Tibial Band Syndrome. It essentially means you simply can't walk/run downhill as your knees feel like they will collapse. So leaning on Jo heavily in every sense of the word (physically, psychologically, you name it), we hobbled to the end. Absurdly the sun was now shining in a blue fluffy sky, the birds were tweeting. We could hear laughter. It felt utterly surreal, and one wondered if it had all been a terrible dream. Did these people have any idea what we'd been through?

Most likely yes.

They know better. They've seen it all before….

After a year I'll have forgotten all this stuff and will find myself entering it again. At least I've got the gear! If you fancy some of the same I'll see you there!!

www.longtownmrt.org.uk/home.htm